Adultery Wife's Submission to husband's Enemy

[drlund]

Lovely

[girrich9486]

Lovely

Thankyou

[girrich9486]

Update please

Sure I will update. Thankyou

[HOTBABY]

Please update bro

[veenaimo]

excellent updates...

[girrich9486]

excellent updates...

Thank you bro...

[girrich9486]

Please update bro

Thank you bro sorry for delay..

[Ayush01111]

Will husband take revenge and wife will help please reply and update

[girrich9486]

Will husband take revenge and wife will help please reply and update

Thank you bro... But already husband become cuck.. May be in future he will take.

[Ayush01111]

Thank you bro... But already husband become cuck.. May be in future he will take.

How can a normal husband who fucks his wife twice a night become just see 2 -3 sesion and become chuck will you elobrate

[Ayush01111]

Need update

[Ayush01111]

Update

[Ayush01111]

Update

[Ayush01111]

Update

[Ayush01111]

When will update come bro

[girrich9486]

When will update come bro

Sorry bro. I am in other emergency work. So I can't write.. Today my work will over.. I will start again. 


Thank you..

[girrich9486]

The days after that brutal Wednesday night stretched into a strange, quiet normalcy. Vikram vanished completely—no messages, no late-night calls, no black Mercedes waiting outside their apartment. The silence felt heavier than his presence ever had. Shailaja’s body still ached in places she didn’t want to admit—her nipples tender, her pussy and ass sore from ice and thick cock—but the marks faded slowly, leaving only faint red lines and memories that made her wet when she least expected it.
She and Karthik tried to return to regular life. Mornings: coffee together, her cooking dosa while he checked emails. Evenings: TV serials, small talk about work, her head on his shoulder like nothing had changed. They fucked sometimes—quick, familiar sex in the dark—but it felt different now. Karthik’s touches were harder, almost angry. He gripped her hips too tight, thrust deeper than before, as if trying to erase Vikram’s shape from inside her.
Shailaja noticed. She didn’t say anything.
One Friday night, ten days after the penthouse, Karthik came home late from office. Shailaja was already in bed, wearing only a thin cotton nightie, scrolling her phone. He didn’t speak. He just locked the bedroom door, pulled off his shirt, and climbed over her.
“Karthik… slow…” she murmured, smiling sleepily.
He didn’t slow.
He flipped her onto her stomach roughly. Yanked the nightie up to her waist. No foreplay. No kisses. His cock—already rock-hard—was pressing against her ass crack before she could even gasp.
“Wait… not there…” she whispered, suddenly tense.
He ignored her.
One hand pinned her wrists above her head. The other guided his thick shaft to her rear hole—the same hole Vikram had stretched with ice-cold glass plugs. Karthik didn’t use lube. Only the little wetness that had leaked from her pussy when she remembered those nights.
He pushed.
Hard.
Shailaja’s eyes flew open. “No! Karthik—no—no—no! It hurts!”
He didn’t care.
With one brutal shove he buried half his length inside her dry, unprepared ass. She screamed—sharp, real pain tearing through her.
“AAAAHHH! Karthik—please—slow down—pls—too big—burning—AHHH!”
He leaned down, mouth against her ear, voice low and bitter.
“You screamed louder for him. Much louder. Begged for his cock like a whore. Took ice in your cunt and ass like it was nothing. Now take your husband.”
He slammed forward again—deeper—all the way in.
Shailaja’s whole body jerked. Tears spilled instantly. Her ass clenched around him in panic, trying to push him out, but that only made him groan with dark pleasure.
“Pls… Karthik… slow… I can’t… AHHHH!”
He started fucking her—hard, fast, punishing strokes. No mercy. Each thrust slapped his balls against her pussy lips. Her screams turned hoarse, broken.
“No—no—no—please—slow—Karthik—hurts—AAAAHHH!”
But her body betrayed her. After the first brutal minutes, the burn eased into a deep, stretching fullness. Her pussy dripped onto the sheets. Her hips started lifting—tiny, involuntary movements—meeting his thrusts.
He noticed.
“You like it,” he growled. “Slut. You like it rough now. He trained you well.”
He pulled out suddenly—making her whimper at the emptiness—then flipped her onto her back. Legs forced wide. He slammed back into her pussy this time—deep, angry strokes—while two fingers pushed into her still-gaping ass.
Double penetrated by her own husband.
Shailaja’s head thrashed side to side. “Too much—too much—Karthik—AAAAHHH! Both holes—please—slow—AHHHH!”
He fucked both holes at once—cock in cunt, fingers in ass—matching rhythm. Her screams climbed higher, turning into long, wailing cries.
“I’M SORRY… AHHH… I’M SORRY… FOR MOANING FOR HIM… PLS… SLOW… I CAN’T… AAAAAHHH!”
He didn’t slow.
He fucked her until she came—shaking, squirting around his cock, ass clenching his fingers so hard he grunted. Only then did he pull out of her pussy and slam back into her ass—finishing there with short, brutal thrusts.
He came deep inside her rear—hot spurts filling her while she sobbed and trembled.
When he finally rolled off, both were panting. Shailaja curled into a ball, ass leaking his cum, tears wet on the pillow.
Karthik stared at the ceiling for a long time.
Then he whispered, “Next time… you’ll scream my name louder than his.”
Shailaja didn’t answer.
But the grudge in his chest only grew.
———
Karthik started planning revenge the very next week.
He knew about Vikram’s younger sister—Navya. Everyone in their old college circle knew. She was twenty-eight now, married three years, but her husband worked in Canada—software engineer, gone nine months of the year. Navya stayed in Gurgaon, alone in a fancy apartment near Golf Course Road. Photos on social media showed her: tall, fair, long black hair, sharp jawline, full lips, curves that made men stare. Always in tight gym wear or sarees that hugged her waist and ass perfectly. The kind of beauty that looked effortless and expensive.
Karthik decided she would pay for what her brother did to his wife.
He changed his jogging route. Started going to the same park where Navya ran every morning at 6:30 a.m.—bright pink sports bra, black leggings, ponytail swinging. First week he just nodded politely when their paths crossed. Second week he smiled. Third week he said “Good morning” and matched her pace for a few meters.
She smiled back—friendly, no suspicion.
They started talking.
Small things at first: “Nice shoes… Which app do you use for tracking?… Weather is getting hot, right?”
Then longer conversations. She laughed easily. Told him about missing her husband, about boring corporate job, about how running helped her forget loneliness.
Karthik listened. Nodded. Acted kind. Acted safe.
After three weeks he invited her for coffee after the run—“just as friends, nothing else.” She hesitated, then agreed.
They met at a small café near the park. She wore a loose white T-shirt and shorts—sweaty, glowing, nipples faintly visible through damp fabric. Karthik’s cock stirred just looking at her.
They talked for two hours. She opened up more—said her marriage felt distant, that she felt neglected, that sometimes she wondered if she was still desirable.
Karthik touched her hand lightly. “You’re very desirable, Navya. Any man would be lucky.”
She blushed. Didn’t pull away.
Next week he suggested a “longer run” on Sunday—early morning trail outside the city. She said yes.
That Sunday he picked her up in his car. She wore tiny running shorts and a sports bra again—cleavage bouncing as she climbed in. They drove to a quiet forested trail. Ran for forty minutes. Sweaty. Breathing hard.
At the end, near a small clearing with benches, he offered her water. She drank. He stepped closer.
“You okay?” he asked softly.
She nodded—then looked up at him with those big, dark eyes.
He kissed her.
She froze for one second—then kissed back. Hungry. Desperate.
They stumbled to his car. Backseat. Clothes half-off. He sucked her dark nipples through the bra while she moaned his name. Fingers inside her wet pussy. She came fast—shaking, whispering “Yes… yes… please…”
But Karthik didn’t fuck her that day.
He wanted more.
He wanted proof.
Next week he booked a hotel room—small, discreet, in a business area far from both their homes. Told her he had “something special” planned after their run. She agreed—nervous but excited.
Saturday evening. 7 p.m.
Navya arrived wearing a simple red kurti and jeans—beautiful, shy. Karthik had already set up: phone on tripod in the corner, recording in hidden mode. Another phone ready for photos.
They kissed the moment the door closed.
He stripped her slowly—kurti off, bra unhooked, jeans pulled down. She stood in black lace panties—full breasts heaving, nipples hard, pussy already wet through the fabric.
He pushed her onto the bed. Spread her legs wide.
“Smile for me,” he whispered.
She laughed—thinking it was playful.
He took photos—her face, her breasts, her open thighs, panties pulled aside showing pink, glistening folds.
She didn’t notice the camera in the corner still recording.
He ate her pussy—slow, teasing licks on her clit until she was moaning loudly, hips bucking.
“Karthik… oh god… yes… eat me… AHHH!”
He made her come on his tongue—screaming his name, thighs clamping his head.
Then he flipped her over. Ass up. Pulled her panties down to her knees.
He entered her pussy from behind—one hard thrust.
Navya cried out—pleasure mixed with surprise.
“Fuck… so thick… Karthik… yes… harder…”
He fucked her hard—slapping her ass, pulling her hair, making her scream with every deep stroke.
“You like it rough?” he growled.
“Yes… yes… fuck me hard… AHHH!”
He recorded everything—her face in ecstasy, her bouncing tits, his cock disappearing into her wet cunt.
Then he pulled out. Pressed against her ass.
“No… wait… not there…” she gasped.
He didn’t listen—just like he hadn’t listened to Shailaja.
He pushed in—slow at first, then harder.
Navya screamed—“No—no—Karthik—it hurts—pls—slow—AHHH!”
He kept going—inch by inch—until he was buried in her tight virgin ass.
She sobbed—pain, pleasure, shame all mixed.
He fucked her ass—slow then fast—slapping her cheeks red.
“Tell me you love it,” he ordered.
“I… I love it… fuck my ass… AHHH… Karthik… please…”
She came again—ass clenching around him, pussy dripping untouched.
He pulled out. Flipped her onto her back. Fucked her pussy again—deep, brutal—while rubbing her clit.
She screamed his name over and over—lost completely.
When he was close he pulled out. Made her kneel.
“Open your mouth.”
She obeyed—tongue out.
He came on her face—thick ropes across her cheeks, lips, tongue.
Took more photos—her cum-covered face, eyes glassy, mangalsutra still around her neck (she hadn’t removed it).
Afterward she lay trembling—exhausted, satisfied, guilty.
Karthik cleaned her gently. Kissed her forehead.
“This stays between us,” he said softly.
She nodded—still dazed.
But he already had the videos. The photos. Saved in a hidden folder.
That night he went home to Shailaja.
Showed her nothing—yet.
But when they fucked later, he made her scream louder than ever—pounding her pussy and ass while whispering in her ear:
“I’m going to ruin him the way he ruined us.”
Shailaja moaned—half in fear, half in dark excitement.
The game had only just begun.

[girrich9486]

[Ayush01111]

Awsome

[Ayush01111]

Awsome update but i am waitibg for more